let me be solemn in Yosemite

i have not made the world my home
nor have i considered the egos of nighttime mountains

their bare bones make no difference to me
as i sit in a darkened bus exhaling a ring of fumes,
an open-mouthed wreath gifted to the world

i have never spoken to the brokenness of bridal
veil falls, even though she waits for me ’til morn
like a petulant little sister connected solely by chance

i suppose,
there is something though, beyond all my dumb breathing
beneath all this tumbling, and all-out burning of mother
and father, sister and brother stars

if, and when,
things are as they should be, i will latch onto the musical
strings written expressly for me, and dance holding onto
the hem of your skirt which is not one of the least of these;

thank you,
please, for wildflowers sleeping


17: NaPoWriMo and Real Toads


19 thoughts on “let me be solemn in Yosemite

      1. Haven’t but yes it would be one of those ‘bucket’ list kinda places specially as one of my heroes of photography Ansel Adams shot some of his best work there.

      1. When we first arrived (years ago now) we immediately saw a family of black bears being stalked by crazy, camera-snapping tourists. But you’re right, you have to put in work to see the sights that lift the soul.

  1. at Yosemite, roughly age 7, my Viet aunt came to visit so the family went to Yosemite. I distinctly remember the shock of morning ablution with cold water, and more so the bear of a man with a highly hirsute back – I mean, first cousin to the bears, washing himself sans shirt in the loo. I never knew humans could be that hairy. ~

  2. I adore this piece, especially in the narrator who is in awe of the surroundings, but also painfully aware of their own humanness. stunning…..just well done! Viva la!

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